'The Empty Chair' Meditates On The Space Between Two Stories
At one point, she appeals to Bruce, "But you can change things around later, no? Bruce? With the editing? You can sand down the rough edges." I'll admit, there were points that I found myself wishing that he had.
Frankly, though, these are minor quibbles. The novellas live instead in their contradictions, bringing opposing terms together again and again. Wagner mines this friction for comedy and pain — often both at once. In India, the streets swarm with "Swami Mafiosi." Queenie interrupts a dramatic moment to comment on how well she pulled it off — or, would have pulled it off, had she not interrupted herself. In one devastating scene, Charley discovers divinity at the heart of trauma. And even as he and Queenie tell of their quests for self-abnegation, they become painfully self-aware in the telling.
Religion pervades this book — Roman Catholicism, mysticism, Buddhism, warts and blessings and all. But, for all the dogma, one concept stuck with me: "'Bardo' is Tibetan," Charley explains early on, "it means the limbo or 'in-between.'" It's here — in bardo, of all places — that this book offers the reader its pleasure and challenge. Between religions, between contradictions, and even between their various tellings, these stories grasp at something difficult to put into words.
In the end, our trusty transcriber Bruce finds the tiny thread that binds the two novellas. Wagner, on the other hand, remains content to relish the humor and sadness of that space between.
Read an excerpt of The Empty Chair